Today church was with Crists' blog, with Dennen's prophetic song gone unheard, reality's interrupting way, black coffee's bitter resting grounding, balanced with purified water with half lemon, Weather's religious practice of rejecting God, The Cold and heartless whore that is Mrs. Butterworth, and my own fist; my chest and my broken kite.
Here is my attempt.
to be right
about this world's shameful ignoring
of their neighbor
being stranger
and the communion of self plight
Checkbook clouded sight keeps them
from counting his visible ribs beneath breathing skin
or veiled lover Jerusalem dying
in brown skin fighting
bombing precisely
wrong place wrong timing
Shock and awe not so surprising
another day of bleeding for not fighting
playing with grenades called "aid"
this blown away face never existed in your statistics anyway.
gas a dime less
a strange way of counting success
something they've come to expect.
so I avoid your bank blinding
of the dead child at our table
soldiers killed on cable
and feudal fitting of comfort to living dying
in a way only done in the Christian sort of lying
and redefined submission remarkably reminiscent
of self sufficient.
This way good news is what you make it to your own pious existence
and applicants of words regarding the "blessed poor" refer to--trail off in some unconsidered utterance about their treasure being in heaven and the need for more AK 47's...
in an effort to (avoid) understanding Christs' death we spend our money sending others to theirs and writing checks, for a fraction of what's left, to those who made it through the salvation genocide.
This is my effort, to avoid more death,
to be righteous; I attempt. My attempt.
I have sent myself floating an angry striving existing;
to do something. change something. do nothing.
toward empty failed betterment is my blind defeat.
I beat and beat this chest in agony
harmonizing with all created things in beat and scream
our death is a heralding symphony
in final breath and broken ceasing
I feel Peace spreading; divinity willing.
not in speech or listen
both requiring the independent striving me,
this being blends to Being, I AM breaths.
